by Hannah Ross
Priscilla had to relent. When she made her way downstairs a few minutes later, she was wearing one of Stephanie's little black dresses and matching black pumps, with a touch of makeup on her face. She hadn't worn makeup in years. It would simply feel ridiculous in the lonely spot she and Ben chose for a home.
"Are you sure you don't want to leave the baby with Carla?" Stephanie asked, seeing that Priscilla was putting a little coat and cap on Ian. "Surely you deserve a break after toting him around all day long. And it's nearly time for him to go to bed, anyway."
"No, thanks, Steph. Ian isn't used to anyone but me. He'll drive Carla crazy. And I know Mom will want to meet him."
"Oh well. As you wish, then. Wilson! Make sure there's a baby seat in the car."
They rode down in the shiny elevator and were soon seated in one of the sleek black cars. Ned drove and Stephanie sat next to him, turning back once in a while to talk to her sister.
"If there's one thing I'm looking forward to, it's us getting a little plot of land. I'm not hoping for anything above a few acres, you know. And a decent house. Not anything like Silver Oaks, of course, at least not just yet, but a place where I wouldn't have to worry about where I might put up the au pair."
"There's plenty of land across the Boundary," Priscilla observed.
Stephanie made a derisive noise. "Across the Boundary, Prissy! What an idea. I want to live someplace safe."
"Actually," Ned said, "Priscilla makes a fair point. There are wild territories that have been tested and proclaimed totally safe from pollution. Those can be annexed to the Boundary. Or rather, given a new status of out-of-Boundary lands fit for human habitation. The plots can be sold, and would be much cheaper than any land that is still left within the Boundary."
"But Ned," Stephanie protested, "That's preposterous. No sane person would want to live without the protection of the Boundary."
"Don't be so sure, my dear. Your sister does. As do many others. The government is looking into this."
Priscilla was silent. She felt a chill of foreboding. Something told her that government expansion across the Boundary would not bode well for the freedom-loving people who have made their home in the wilderness.
There wasn't much time to dwell on it, though, as the car entered the driveway of Silver Oaks. Though it was dark and not much of the landscape could be seen, she still felt a jolt of pain she could not explain. This place was home for so long, but it wasn't anymore. She was a stranger here now.
As they got out of the car, they were met on the front steps by Eleanor Dahl, who ran to her youngest daughter with a strangled sob that was very much out of character. "Prissy, oh, Prissy!" Her voice broke with emotion as she surprised her daughter by throwing her arms around her and Ian and hugging them, enveloping them in a cloud of expensive perfume. "How good it is that you came! How much I missed you!"
Not enough to try and get in touch these past five years. Priscilla did her best to banish the bitter thought and said, "Meet Ian, Mom."
"The darling! So precious! He looks just as you used to when you were little. Come, Prissy, do get in, it's chilly outside. Come, Stephy, Ned, come in. Aunt Daphne just arrived."
Priscilla felt strange as she sat down to dinner with her family. Though everyone was a little older, it was much the same as it was when she last sat behind this table five years ago – her mother and Aunt Daphne, Ned and Stephanie, the sparkling wine glasses and cutlery, the consommé in pristine white bowls. Only her father's chair at the head of the table was empty. Priscilla was afraid to ask. She didn't know exactly how bad things were by now, but then her mother got up, gave a forced smile and said, "Well, now that we're all here, I might as well go and help Alexander downstairs. I didn't want him to wait too long." She turned to Priscilla. "Being out of bed tires him."
Priscilla's relationship with her father had been strained at best since she ran away from home during his election campaign when she was sixteen. Alexander Dahl always attributed that bitter loss of his presidency to Priscilla's conspicuous absence. Even after Priscilla came back, she chose to live with her Aunt Daphne rather than in Silver Oaks, and it certainly didn't make her father like her better when, just a few days short of her eighteenth birthday, she confronted him and called him an egocentric, megalomaniacal tyrant. Now, however, she couldn't help feeling a pang as she heard the hesitating, shuffling steps coming downstairs.
When her father made his appearance, Priscilla was shocked to see how pale and haggard he was. Dahl was fifty-five now, but looked more like seventy. His hair was white and brittle, and the powerful steely glint of his eyes had dimmed.
He looked at her without betraying any great emotion, and hardly spared a glance for little Ian in his high chair. "Welcome home, Priscilla," he said with a cool nod.
"Thank you, Father." Priscilla put a comforting arm around Ian, who grew very quiet as he stared at the strange, old, ghost-like man. His lip quivered and he looked at his mother with wide, fearful eyes.
"It's alright, sweetie," Priscilla said in a low voice. "See, everyone's sitting down to have dinner. Do you want Mommy to get you a roll?"
"Where are your things, Prissy?" Her mother asked as they all picked up their spoons. "Surely you brought something besides this little handbag?"
"My suitcase is at Ned and Stephanie's place. I thought I might as well stay there. You do have a guest room, don't you, Steph?"
"Your sister has two guestrooms, I believe," Aunt Daphne said, tucking her napkin into the collar of her blouse, where it fit neatly underneath her three chins. "But won't you stay at Silver Oaks after such a long time away?"
Priscilla blushed. "Well…" she began, but stopped at the sight of her mother's hurt expression.
"Of course you must stay here, Prissy. We have your old room ready for you. And we've put in a cot for the little one."
"Send someone for her things straight away, Eleanor," declared Aunt Daphne, and Priscilla had to relent.
Her father, she noticed, scarcely touched his food. After eating a few spoons of soup, he pushed the bowl aside, and didn't taste any of the fish. He only nibbled at the salad and ate a tiny bit of the grilled chicken breast. Before it was time for dessert, he declared he was too tired, and Eleanor escorted him back upstairs, where an attendant would keep an eye on him through the night.
"This was a very light dinner," said Aunt Daphne in complaining tones. "I was hoping for roast duck."
"I try to order light meals these days, Auntie, on account of Alexander. He can't stomach anything heavy or greasy, you know."
"Hmm," Aunt Daphne pursed her lips. "I don't see that he ate much of this fare either. Oh well, Nellie, I suppose you know best."
Aunt Daphne was somewhat appeased by the generous portions of apricot soufflé that were handed round, along with small glasses of sweet dessert wine.
"Here, girl," she told the maid, "You might as well bring the bottle and pour some wine into my tumbler."
"But your water-tumbler is so tall, Aunt Daphne," Stephanie pointed out meekly.
"Did I say that it wasn't? I don't like to drink out of eggcups, thank you very much. Don't see the point of offering one's guests a half-swallow."
Priscilla leaned toward her mother and asked in a low voice: "How bad is it?"
Eleanor sighed. "The doctors don't give him more than two months."
"But that's what they said a year ago, too," Aunt Daphne put in. "He's a tough nut, your father."
"We're not giving up," Eleanor said, "not until the very grip of death. And having you around again is sure to do your father good, Prissy."
"I can only stay two weeks, Mom."
Eleanor looked disappointed. "I had hoped..."
"Sure you can stay," Stephanie said. "You have your little boy with you, don't you, Prissy? What else is there for you in that godforsaken land?"
Priscilla felt a stab of anger. "Oh, I don't know... Let's think. Maybe... a husband?"
Stephanie looked unimpressed. "Tha
t man is not even really your husband," she said. "I mean, you couldn't be registered as a married couple, because he's an Illegal."
Priscilla was about to open her mouth and utter a scathing retort, but to her surprise, Aunt Daphne spoke first.
"That man's name is Ben, Stephy, and your sister has loved him and stayed true to him for ten years now. I'm not saying that's wise, mind you, but if I were you, I'd think twice before talking disparagingly of him."
"Besides, Ian's father can apply for legal status," Ned said in his mild manner. "With our connections it can be easily arranged. In fact... it might become even more advisable in the near future."
"Oh?" Priscilla gave him a sharp look. "What do you mean, Ned?"
Ned Thornton seemed to regret having said too much. "Oh, you know. Government policies may change. The status of the Wild Children has really been ridiculously ambiguous for too long." Ned took up his wine glass again and began to speak of something else.
The next day found Priscilla in the car again, in company with her sister, the children, and the au pair, on the way to a shopping center. Stephanie was sitting behind the wheel complaining, having been forced to choose a bulky jeep that would sit six.
"A regular family vehicle is so much more convenient," she said before they left. "But I couldn't possibly do without Carla for a whole afternoon."
"What's the point of spending time with your children if you are taking the au pair along?"
"Why, so I can hand them over to Carla if they start whining or have a tantrum or any such disagreeable thing. Carla handles those things much better than I ever could. Besides, we're going to Wonder World. It's a classy place and we may meet important people. I want to be able to have an uninterrupted conversation if need be."
Wonder World was a new shopping center that occupied a luxurious twenty-story building. Its spacious halls offered ladies of leisure anything money could buy. There was an everyday wear floor and an evening dress floor, a level for shoes and bags, and one for jewelry and wigs. There was a gym center with a swimming pool, a spa, a restaurant and a bar, and there was a floor for children, with such a lavish array of toys that Priscilla felt dazzled. Her little boy seemed more overwhelmed than overjoyed by all these riches, but Stephanie's children appeared bored. After about half an hour Stephanie lost her patience. "Carla, take the children to the playground level for an hour. Meet us at the restaurant for lunch at one o'clock."
"Yes, ma'am," said Carla, leading Olivia and Georgie away by the hand. Priscilla, despite her sister's vigorous advice to the contrary, kept little Ian with her.
"Now, Prissy, why don't we find you something to wear?" Stephanie said, fingering a silk dress that cost about as much as the average middle-class worker earned in a month. "I don't want to offend you, but you look really nondescript. You could use a stylist."
"I have no occasion to look any different," Priscilla said.
Stephanie was never able to grasp that, even under their mother's most skillful coaching, her sister was an indifferent pupil at best, one who didn't care about clothes the way she did, and who would rather clip her nails with pruning shears than spend an afternoon in a beauty parlor.
Thankfully, Priscilla was spared an argument by the arrival of a very classy-looking lady in a knee-length pearl grey pencil skirt and a matching jacket. Her hair was perfectly done, her inch-long nails expertly manicured, and she positively beamed with excitement as she saw Stephanie.
"How lucky it is I ran into you here, Stephy! I've been longing to talk to you about next week's charity concert, but couldn't reach you these past two days."
"Hi there, Liz - yes, things have been pretty busy lately. Prissy, this is Liz Halliday, a good friend of mine. Liz, meet my sister Priscilla."
"Oh gosh! You don't say! Are you really Priscilla? I have so often wished I could meet you. Stephy always says you are the quiet type, though. Don't like the spotlight."
"Yes," Priscilla said, "I guess you could say that."
"And such a dear little boy you have. Why, I don't think I've ever seen you or your husband around these parts."
"Well, no. We live in a different area. We have our own, um, estate."
"Some land? I should have guessed. How fortunate you must be!'
"Where are your little ones, Liz?" Stephanie asked, desperately trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.
"Oh, with their nanny, of course. I absolutely must have my hands free today. I need to find a dress for tonight. Jim talked me into throwing this huge dinner in honor of Governor Chancey. And you won't believe it, but it just so happens that only this morning I discovered that Mrs. Chancey is allergic to tomatoes. Can you imagine how floored I was? I have to rethink my whole menu now."
Priscilla zoned out. Even as a naive teenage girl looking up to her big sister, she was never attracted by the glorified superficiality of the fashionable world. She breathed a sigh of relief when Liz trotted away on her high heels.
"What a chatterbox," Stephanie said, shaking her head. "A nice girl, though. Anyway, it's nearly lunchtime. Let's go to the restaurant, Prissy."
"I think I'll just take a taxi and head straight home, if you don't mind too much. Ian is beginning to fret. He needs his nap."
"Sure, if you want to. But... I must say I don't understand you, Prissy."
Priscilla raised an eyebrow. "Yes. I noticed that."
"You could just stay here. Live at home - or anywhere you like. Marry someone suitable. Be respectable."
Priscilla patted her sister's shoulder, feeling Stephanie remained very much the same girl who was all in a flutter at the prospect of being noticed by Ned Thornton at her debut ball. "I think we have somewhat different notions as to what respectable means. So let's just try not to argue, Steph. Alright?"
On the way home in the taxi, Priscilla idly picked up yesterday's newspaper. It featured a large lifelike photo of her brother-in-law – slim, cleanly shaved, his fair hair slightly thinning. She started at the headline. "Ministry of Finances Spokesman Declares: The Abandoned Lands May Be Reclaimed By The Government". Priscilla quickly scanned the column. What appeared as a mildly curious piece to the Boundary people carried a troubling message for her, especially when coupled with Ned's recommendation for Ben to apply for citizenship.
What could this mean? When did the White Tower decide to extend its horizons outside the Boundary, to the wild lands and wild people? And what will that mean for me, and Ben, and everyone else?
Priscilla felt oppressed when she returned to Silver Oaks. She rocked Ian in her arms for a while and put him down for a nap, then sat in the midst of what used to be her room. It looks the same as when I lived here. The same French windows opening to that splendid view of the park with its velvety lawns and trees. The same wide springy bed with a few fluffy pillows and a bright quilt. Although the quilt's new. They never did keep old and things in Silver Oaks. She rose, looked around again, then walked out, closing the door behind her.
Priscilla found her mother in the den, frowning over a list of instructions she was about to give the housekeeper. "Ah, Prissy." She shook her head. "I'll never get used to this. With Tilly, there was no need for any lists at all. She just seemed to read my mind. You've seen her, haven't you?"
"Yes. She is doing well. Enjoying her grandchildren. You look tired, Mom."
"I am, dear. I was up with your father for a long time last night. He had trouble falling asleep. I think he's feeling better now, though. Would you like to see him?"
For the life of her Priscilla didn't know what she could possibly say to her father. "No, not now. Better let him rest."
"The little one is asleep?"
"Yes, Ian was all tired out today. Me too, actually."
Eleanor smiled. "Shopping was never really your thing. Stephanie meant well, though."
"I know, Mom." Priscilla hesitated. "What does Ned Thornton plan to do beyond the Boundary?"
Her mother looked startled. "Oh, you know, we're not reall
y into politics now, dear. Not since your father got sick. But I know Ned is energetic and hard-working. He initiated a series of reforms, and is hoping to rise to Minister of Finances in the next few years."
"And then to president?"
"Oh, I don't know," Eleanor said. "Ned is certainly very ambitious. And Stephanie thinks she would do well as a First Lady. But it's not easy, being a president's wife."
"Or a president's daughter," Priscilla said under her breath, but her mother heard.
"It was tough for you, dear, I know. But as soon as you could stand up for yourself, you did. I do wish I had been a more attentive mother." Priscilla heard the regret in her voice. "Maybe if I had been wiser and more patient, you would have trusted me more, trust me more now, and we could avoid any…ah…extreme steps."
"Mom," Priscilla said, sick of these allusions, "my marriage is not something to regret, and I would appreciate it if you don't treat it as such."
"I don't have anything personal against your young man, Prissy. For all I know he could have many very, err, good qualities. But all the same, the differences in your upbringing—"
"Mom! It's kind of pointless to keep going on at this point. Whether you acknowledge it or not, Ben and I have been married for five years. We have a baby together. That isn't about to change."
"No. To be sure. Well, then, why don't you accept Ned's advice? You can both move here. There is enough room in Silver Oaks for a whole clan. Your… Ben can get a citizenship. You two can have a future, and your son as well."
"What about the others?" Priscilla asked after a pause.
"The others?" Eleanor repeated, confused.
"Yes, Mom. The Illegals. Those who aren't considered good enough to have a future. What about them?"
3
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It was a dismal rainy Wednesday, but Glenn Marshall's countenance had the bright gleam of a newly minted penny as he sauntered into Jordan Hurst's office.
This was no longer the modest but respectable office Jordan occupied ten years ago, when he started at Environmental Improvement. He had been promoted to a Head Inspector, then Regional Supervisor and finally, four years ago, to Vice-president of the department, a position second only to Glenn's.